


Showing affection (according to James Moriarty)

by cucumber_of_doom



Series: With hands and feet [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Moriarty is his own warning, casual mentioning of violence, gory christmas-ornaments, inappropriate clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumber_of_doom/pseuds/cucumber_of_doom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty has his own ideas about appropriate Christmas decoration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showing affection (according to James Moriarty)

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes are my own. Please feel free to point out anything I missed.

„Boss? I'm back. Got the bleach and the duct tape“, Sebastian called from the door, plastic bag in hand and frapped up in his thick black jacket. The stores had been so cramped the day after boxing day, one could easily think everyone had had the same idea as Jim: Paying a surprise visit to some obviously suicidal bloke who dabbled in human trafficking and thought it a good idea to sell altered forms of the plans he had asked Jim for to third parties. There was no way not to see that as a serious death-wish. 

He and Jim had tracked him down in his flat earlier that evening, where the ex-soldier tied the wayward Mr. Wilson to his own leather chair right next to the overly big Christmas tree. But just when they were about to get started Sebastian found some items missing from the bag he kept packed for spontaneous outings. Jim had cursed at the inconvenience and sent Sebastian right back into the cold. And now that he was back, Wilsons flat was eerily quiet.

„Boss?“, he called again, gun already in hand as he inched closer to the open living room door. Still no answer. Sebastian instinctively checked his memory of the flat for potential cover and weapons. If Wilson had freed himself he could only hope that Jim was still alive. The man was far from helpless, but Sebastian wouldn't put it past him to get himself held hostage just to show him, that he had failed at his job as a bodyguard. Would be typical.

He silently put the bag to the floor, adjusted his grip on the gun (he still preferred his rifle) and stepped into the open door.

Jim swirled around, wearing nothing but a red thong trimmed with white fur and a generous amount of green bodyglitter across his chest.

Every available surface in the sitting-room was covered in colourful, blinking lights. It looked like a drunken fairy had vomited all over the place. And then butchered a pig to smear it's blood on top of it. That's were Wilson had gone: all over the furniture.

The plastic-foil they usually used to prevent leaving bloodstains laid discarded next to the doorway that led to the kitchen. That sometimes happened when Jim got carried away. 

„I got bored and started without you”, Jim explained unnecessary, bloodied knife still in hand. ”But our dear Mr. Wilson died way too quickly, was hardly worth the effort. Told me all his contacts without loosing a single limb. Bo~ring.” Jim sing-songed and sat down on the single clean spot on the cushions. “Then I called Morrison to bring over the Christmas-lights and decorated. What do you think?“

Sebastian blinked. Then he did it again.

“Morrison is an idiot, boss. Miracle he picked up the right box”, he finally said and holstered his gun. Fucking Jim. Nearly gave him a heart-attack because he couldn't be arsed to wait with something fun.

Jim only chuckled.  
“Of course he is, but I needed the decoration right away.”

Jim owned an expensive flat in Mayfair that he could have decorated all he liked, but refused to do earlier that week. Too ordinary, he had said. Killing a guy directly after Christmas to decorate his flat on the other hand was far from ordinary and much more Jims style. At least it was random enough to fit the Consulting Criminal's tastes.

Finally Sebastian stepped around the ruined sofa to give the ornaments in the tree a closer examination.

“Are that his fingers?”, he asked and gave one of them a testing poke.

“Yes Tiger~”, Jim purred from behind. “Do you like them?”

“It's a nice touch”, Sebastian said grinning and turned around again. Jim kneeled on the couch and beckoned him closer. Sebastian was happy to oblige. Two steps later he stood right in front of Jim. Fuck. Jim might look kind of ridiculous; covered in glitter and surrounded by blinking lights, but he still wanted to jump him. Watching the insane genius being happy stirred something in him that wasn't simply lust any more. Not for some time.

With a lazy smile, Jim rested his hands on Sebastians shoulders and looked up to him.

“Merry Christmas, Tiger.”

They would probably have to burn the whole place down after spraying everything with bleach to get rid of all the forensic evidence they were about to leave behind.  
Sebastian smirked.

Best. Christmas. Ever.


End file.
